Fear
by Chapin
Summary: S6/E8 SPOILERS After Martin leaves the hospital, Louisa is left alone with her thoughts. How is facing this life-threatening situation affecting her?


Fear

By Chapin

**The characters, places and situations of _Doc Martin_ are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story places no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.**

**Thank you for reading. I do appreciate your reviews.**

Dying. I might die. Racing to hospital the reality of my possible death hit me and I became very afraid. Martin is watching me and there is fear in his eyes. It is the same look I saw in his eyes as I entered the taxi just hours before. I can't die. No, I cannot die! I have a son who needs a mother. And I...I...I have a husband. The thought was unavoidable. Son and husband; one thought. And the stark reality that I could lose them if I die. The fear in Martin's eyes knows this enormous loss is looming.

So I lie here in this bed on the other side of death. The surgery on my brain will prevent my bleeding into oblivion. Martin left an hour ago saying I might go home yet today, but a nurse has just told me that would not happen before tomorrow. A thousand thoughts flood my mind, alone, very alone in this room.

Everything happened so fast and being anesthetized I missed the big show. I remember feeling woozy and Martin in my face talking. I wish I could remember his words. He seemed so pleadingly gentle. While he was talking I do remember I became unafraid. The fear palpably left, floated away, and I must have fallen asleep. Lying here now my mind is a muddle; fuzzy about the edges. Exhaustion has overtaken me. Sorting this is impossible.

I must have fallen into an immensely deep sleep and somewhere in it I was looking down on the graveyard of the church where we were married. There was an indistinguishable figure clutching a headstone and weeping inconsolably.

It felt like I had slept forever, but abruptly I was awake - wide awake. The room was dark with a dim light coming under the closed door. Suddenly fear began to overwhelm me again. Why? I'm going to be well, so why? Why was I suddenly afraid?

Unbidden I cried out, "Oh, Martin, what is wrong?" What was that? What did that mean? Wrong with me? Wrong with him? Wrong with US?

His words return to me. "I can't bear to be without you." "I will always love you." At James' birth Martin was so insecure but my encouragement to hold our son prompted his comment that he could learn.

"James needs a mother present," he had often said. He would add that Portwenn Primary would keep going if I were to die. So now I wonder what would happen to James if I _had_ died today? And what would Martin feel? What would _he _feel? The reality of my dream seemed very revealing.

These morbid thoughts are coursing through me and my visions are simply too vivid for them to go away.

Almost from the days following the wedding I knew something was wrong. Martin was becoming more distant and aloof than ever. The silence when I asked him what was wrong was driving me mad. Why were his eyes sad? A new husband should be _happy_. Maybe he is regretting our marriage. Maybe that is why his blood thing has returned. Maybe if I were to get away it would help him, or me. In the end I just could not take the tension any more. The presence of his awful mother did not help. So I left. I took our son and I left.

Then it struck me like a solar plexus blow. I had _broken_ my promise. So quickly I had broken my promise. For better or for worse. In sickness and in health. Till death separates us. Well, it almost had.

I knew Martin was not well and I had left him to deal with it himself. Bloody hell Louisa what were you thinking?

This is horrible. This is beyond horrible. He was here when I needed him. He is always there when I need him. And what do I do? At the first sign of real trouble I am off like a frightened rabbit. Damn! Damn! Damn!

What did he say about following me to Spain? Martin in his desperation is like the hound of heaven personified. But I have told him I couldn't survive if we continued with a wall between us. And with anxious eyes he said "I don't want that either."

Words and actions are not the same, but I know he means it. And through all of this mulling of thoughts this fear is growing in me. And I now know why. What if Martin did not know my feelings? What if I couldn't tell him we will face this together? What if he never knew I do not want to run away any more?

I pressed the call button and when the nurse came, she turned on the light which was very bright in my eyes. "Are you alright? You look anxious. Should I notify the consultant on call?" she asked. "She could get you something."

"No I am fine."

"I had best check your vital signs."

Finally I burst out with the words, "Nurse, please, may I use your mobile?" She sensed my urgency and handed it to me and said she would return in 15 minutes. I quickly dialed Martin's number. One ring - two - three - four... I began begging Martin to answer. "Please, Martin, pick up, please!"

When he answered after six rings he heard my voice. "Louisa, what's wrong?"

"Oh, Martin, nothing is wrong; nothing at all. I needed to hear your voice and I need to tell you something. I am so thankful you saved my life today. But will you save my life tomorrow and the day after that? There is so much to be sorted, but it can't be settled if I am in Spain. We need to be together with our son in our home. Together Martin. Please come and take me home."

Unbeknownst to me Martin immediately dressed and drove to hospital. A nurse told me later he sat in my room and watched me sleep until dawn.

Something caused me to stir and open my eyes. "Louisa, you are awake. Are you alright? How do you feel?" he asked in one quick breath.

"Oh Martin, now I am _wonderful._ And as he smiled at me, I sank back onto the soft pillow, closed my eyes and fell into a peaceful sleep.

THE END

I am most grateful to robspace54, reallybodmin, Boots1980 and Snowsie2011 for their encouragement and inestimable assistance. _The Hound of Heaven_ is a poem by Francis Thompson.


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